takako

Met Takako for goodbyes in Starbucks on Westmoreland Street.
Her pretty poignant face took on an unusually formal seriousness as she handed me a parting gift.
It's a scroll with traditional Japanese calligraphy, drawn by her Mother.
I gave her a New Testament Bible.
I'd written on the fly leaf: "May this Bible touch your heart as you have touched mine."
After coffees we strolled up O'Connell Street where I was to catch a tram out of the city.
She faced me.
Right that moment, Ireland sent the gentlest kindest rain as we looked at each other.
"I don't mind the rain," said she.
"I like it," said me.
The universe hiding behind such trivia.
Takako is the last of the girls of Summer.
They were a lovely bunch.
Best ever.
That glorious Sicilian, Chiara Luce.
The little sensual sexpot from Brittany, Lorraine Blanchard.
The class French bird from Paris, Margaux De La Tour.
Ah.
I'm britishdiaristing again.
I've never seen the like.
All gone.
Takako too.
We parted.
The ghost of Don Henley appeared beside me.
He began to sing his best song.
You know. The poetic one.
Rare in pop music to actually find poetry.
And the video is good too.
Whoever made the video was an artist.
Even if they did rip off Leni Riefenstahl.
The lyrics do get a bit silly but the whole thing is still pure poetry.
Don Henley sang:

"Out on the road today
I saw a death's head sticker on a cadillac
A little voice inside my head
Said don't look back you can never look back"

I did look back though.
To see a pretty girl vanishing jnto the rain up O'Connell Street.